My whole life flashed before my eyes as I saw the lights of the oncoming truck. Within two-seconds everything went black. I told him he had too many drinks, but he didn’t listen. I insisted on driving, but he wouldn’t budge. If only I had driven myself to the party, how could I have been so stupid?
Although my eyes might not be open, I can slightly hear the noises around me and can tell I’m in an ambulance. The pain is surging through my body, what happened to me? I can hear a slow beeping in the background--my heart rate. How did I get into this mess? I can here Tucker babbling like a crazed idiot to one of the doctors. Something about the road being slippery and a truck that hit the passenger side. Apparently, we slid off the side of the road and flipped over. I can feel my eyes slowly opening and start to see the ring of heads around me. I blink and the fog goes away. I can finally make out the features of my heartbroken mom. I want to sit up and hug her and tell her that I’m okay, but my body refuses to move. The worst feeling in the world is feeling helpless and not being able to comfort the ones you love. Did they strap me to the table? I don’t see any straps. The doctor shines a bright light in my eyes only reminding me of the truck coming straight towards us. I quickly flinch away and there is a sigh of relief in the room as they realize I can move.
The next thing I know I passed out again.
The next time my eyes open, I’m laying in the hospital bed. Oddly enough the cuts, bruises and pains aren’t what freak me out, it is the fact that my camera is miles away from me and I’ve been away from it for far too long. My mom walks in with a tray of food, and I see my dad sleeping on the chair next to the bed.
“Hey sleepy head! The doctors said you would be waking up soon and I figured you would be hungry since you haven’t eaten in three days.” My mother says with an excessively cheerful tone, jerking my dad awake.
“Oh hey, kiddo! Did you get enough sleep?” my dad said jokingly. It’s amazing how he can change everyone’s mood with just one sentence. I tried to respond to both of them, but my mouth is too dry. I finally manage to get one word out.
“Water!” I said in a raspy voice. Then, in no time at all, my mom had the water in front of my face. Even though I don’t particularly like my parents, it’s times like this when I appreciate them being there for me. “Where’s Tucker? Is he all right? Did he get hurt too?” The questions wouldn’t stop pouring out of my mouth. My parents stopped me and told me to relax.
“He just has a slight concussion, but other than that he’s doing great,” my dad exclaims. “He is at his house resting and he should be back in school tomorrow, if everything goes as planned.”
“He is really sorry that he did this.” My mother said in a hushed tone. “He never wanted to hurt you. He was here the first night, kneeling next to your bed crying. We told him that you were sleeping and that you would be fine, but he wouldn’t stop crying.”
Hearing this made me relax a little more. At least he is safe in the comfort of his home. At least he’s thinking about me. At least I know he still loves me. I stare out the window as if to calm myself more by looking at the world around me. Then I see something so beautiful, it took my breath away. “I need my camera.” The words flew out of my mouth so quickly, I could hardly believe it.
“Jess, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Your mother and I agree that photography is not a good path for you to follow. If you apply yourself, you could be a great lawyer. We sent an application to Harvard University and yesterday we got a letter saying they would love to have you as student. In addition, it’s really close to home!”
“What about my acceptance to Boston University, did it come in the mail? It’s even closer to home and they have an amazing photography program.” We live in Quincy, which borders Boston. Harvard is in Cambridge which is farther than Boston from where we live. My parents just don’t understand my deep my passion for photography. The way that the sun sets on the ocean, and the dew sits on the leaves early in the morning inspires me to keep going on with my life. Studying law would be one of the worst decisions because I would die inside.
“Photography won’t get you anywhere in life. Only some photographers get a job that pays enough to support a family and a house. It’s hard to get a job that pays well, especially in that field. With law you can support your own family and more” my mother says.
“I don’t want to go into law! It doesn’t interest me and I only have a love for photography. One day I might even get a job as a professional wedding photographer. It would be fun to take pictures at weddings, and that pays well. You never answered my question, did BU accept my application?” I was really getting angry now.
“Yes, we got it in the mail two days ago,” dad says, “but your missing the point of what I’m saying. There is only a slight chance that you will get far in photography, but it’s almost guaranteed you will succeed in law. We just want what’s best for you, that’s our job as parents. We want to see you grow into a successful woman who has a family and home.”
“Dad, thinking that this would be good for me won’t make me want to go into law. It will probably be the worst career choice I could make. If I’m not going to enjoy my job, I will never have the motivation to get anything done.” It feels like steam is rising off the top of my head. “I really love photography and there isn’t anything you can say or do to change my mind. When I get out of here, I am going straight to BU to register for housing.”
“Will you try going to Harvard for a semester. Maybe you will like it! If you do, you can stay there and follow in your uncle’s footsteps.” My mother said encouragingly.
“Why would I want to follow uncle Steve? He is 49 and lives alone in a giant house in the middle of nowhere! When can I get out of here? I just need to be home with my camera and my sketchbook. It doesn’t matter what you say, I am going to BU and you can’t stop me.” I start to get up and pain shoots through me. I lay back down. This is the worst day of my life. “Why can’t I just take pain medication and go home?” I say to mom and dad. “Nothing is broken or sprained, I don’t need a cast or anything. I just need to get out of here.” I wish my parents would trust my decision and let me go to whatever college I choose. I am paying for it after all.
“I will go get the doctor to see when you can go home,” mom says.
I’m safe in the comfort of my bedroom. Finally I can be alone and not have to deal with anything . . . just relax. Relaxing to most people would probably be resting or reading. Maybe even watching a movie, but for me, it’s grabbing my camera, going outside and taking as many pictures as I can. I may not look my best right now because of all the bruises and cuts, but honestly, who cares?
I was walking along the street waiting for something to stick out, but nothing was interesting. I kept walking, with my headphones in my ears and camera in my hands. Then I see it, the perfect picture opportunity. I stopped quickly not realizing the couple walking behind me was so close. They hit me and I fall, wincing in pain. They keep walking and I get up focusing all of my attention on the patch of berries that had made me stop in the first place. It was gorgeous! The prettiest mixture of purple and pink berries is just big enough to make the branches bend a little and just ripe enough to pick and eat. The light shines over the leaves and caresses the berries perfectly. I slowly sink to one knee and put my camera to my face. My finger slides up to the shutter and, click. Just like that, the picture was taken and my smile stretches from one ear to the other. The best feeling is when I know I took a picture that people will love forever.
I stand up and look a little further into the woods and see a path. The trees hug the sides of the path like the were placed there by angels. Looking through the lens, I see details one might not see with the naked eye. It amazes me how the simplest things in life can be so beautiful. This is how I know I want to work as a photographer for the rest of my life.
The trick to getting a sharp photo is balance. The greater your balance, the better your pictures will be. I went to a photography camp when I was 14. I learned quite a lot about balance and hand eye coordination, which is key to great pictures. The origin of the word photography comes from the Greek words photos, meaning light, and graphein, meaning to draw. We also learned a lot about the history of the camera. This bored me at the time, but thinking back on it, changed my life. If I could go back in time, I would want to meet Alhazen, the man who created the first camera. Without him, where would my life be now?
Not only did I get accepted to BU, I also got a letter asking me, and 10 other freshmen, to come to the campus and learn a little about the careers that we would be studying. When the day finally arrived, I spent all morning getting dressed and making sure I looked presentable. It was hard to cover up the bruises, which by now had turned to an ugly yellow color, but I pulled it off. I decided to drive myself there and not include my family on this experience, considering they don’t care much about me going to this school anyway.
I got to the school fifteen minutes early, which was probably a good thing since I took about ten minutes trying to find my way to the lecture hall. I was walking straight down a long hallway and looking down at a brochure that had come with the invitation. Then, I bumped into someone. When I looked up it was a girl who looked my age and had the same dark hair as me. She looked lost as well. Her name is Rebecca, Becca for short and she applied to this school for photography also. I was glad that I wasn’t the only person lost and confused.
Once we got into the lecture hall, they talked about all the great programs they offer, while and a couple of student speakers told us all about their experiences at BU. It made me feel like I was in eighth grade going into ninth grade again. The rest of the time we toured around the school and listened to the Dean of the School talk about location of each class offered, when each building was founded, and so on. It was very boring, and I never heard a thing about photography the whole time. Me and Becca were walking behind the group getting to know each other. We clicked almost instantly, quickly learning every single detail about each other. We became really close friends in a matter of minutes.
We were both starting to lose hope, thinking that this school wasn’t the right choice for two aspiring photographers. Then the Dean brought us into the largest building on campus. The building was filled with pictures. Every room is designated to a different type of photography. The first room featured all black and white photos. The second room displayed abstract. The third room revealed action photos. My jaw dropped and it was at that moment I knew this is where my heart belonged. I am going to Boston University in the Fall.
Although my eyes might not be open, I can slightly hear the noises around me and can tell I’m in an ambulance. The pain is surging through my body, what happened to me? I can hear a slow beeping in the background--my heart rate. How did I get into this mess? I can here Tucker babbling like a crazed idiot to one of the doctors. Something about the road being slippery and a truck that hit the passenger side. Apparently, we slid off the side of the road and flipped over. I can feel my eyes slowly opening and start to see the ring of heads around me. I blink and the fog goes away. I can finally make out the features of my heartbroken mom. I want to sit up and hug her and tell her that I’m okay, but my body refuses to move. The worst feeling in the world is feeling helpless and not being able to comfort the ones you love. Did they strap me to the table? I don’t see any straps. The doctor shines a bright light in my eyes only reminding me of the truck coming straight towards us. I quickly flinch away and there is a sigh of relief in the room as they realize I can move.
The next thing I know I passed out again.
The next time my eyes open, I’m laying in the hospital bed. Oddly enough the cuts, bruises and pains aren’t what freak me out, it is the fact that my camera is miles away from me and I’ve been away from it for far too long. My mom walks in with a tray of food, and I see my dad sleeping on the chair next to the bed.
“Hey sleepy head! The doctors said you would be waking up soon and I figured you would be hungry since you haven’t eaten in three days.” My mother says with an excessively cheerful tone, jerking my dad awake.
“Oh hey, kiddo! Did you get enough sleep?” my dad said jokingly. It’s amazing how he can change everyone’s mood with just one sentence. I tried to respond to both of them, but my mouth is too dry. I finally manage to get one word out.
“Water!” I said in a raspy voice. Then, in no time at all, my mom had the water in front of my face. Even though I don’t particularly like my parents, it’s times like this when I appreciate them being there for me. “Where’s Tucker? Is he all right? Did he get hurt too?” The questions wouldn’t stop pouring out of my mouth. My parents stopped me and told me to relax.
“He just has a slight concussion, but other than that he’s doing great,” my dad exclaims. “He is at his house resting and he should be back in school tomorrow, if everything goes as planned.”
“He is really sorry that he did this.” My mother said in a hushed tone. “He never wanted to hurt you. He was here the first night, kneeling next to your bed crying. We told him that you were sleeping and that you would be fine, but he wouldn’t stop crying.”
Hearing this made me relax a little more. At least he is safe in the comfort of his home. At least he’s thinking about me. At least I know he still loves me. I stare out the window as if to calm myself more by looking at the world around me. Then I see something so beautiful, it took my breath away. “I need my camera.” The words flew out of my mouth so quickly, I could hardly believe it.
“Jess, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Your mother and I agree that photography is not a good path for you to follow. If you apply yourself, you could be a great lawyer. We sent an application to Harvard University and yesterday we got a letter saying they would love to have you as student. In addition, it’s really close to home!”
“What about my acceptance to Boston University, did it come in the mail? It’s even closer to home and they have an amazing photography program.” We live in Quincy, which borders Boston. Harvard is in Cambridge which is farther than Boston from where we live. My parents just don’t understand my deep my passion for photography. The way that the sun sets on the ocean, and the dew sits on the leaves early in the morning inspires me to keep going on with my life. Studying law would be one of the worst decisions because I would die inside.
“Photography won’t get you anywhere in life. Only some photographers get a job that pays enough to support a family and a house. It’s hard to get a job that pays well, especially in that field. With law you can support your own family and more” my mother says.
“I don’t want to go into law! It doesn’t interest me and I only have a love for photography. One day I might even get a job as a professional wedding photographer. It would be fun to take pictures at weddings, and that pays well. You never answered my question, did BU accept my application?” I was really getting angry now.
“Yes, we got it in the mail two days ago,” dad says, “but your missing the point of what I’m saying. There is only a slight chance that you will get far in photography, but it’s almost guaranteed you will succeed in law. We just want what’s best for you, that’s our job as parents. We want to see you grow into a successful woman who has a family and home.”
“Dad, thinking that this would be good for me won’t make me want to go into law. It will probably be the worst career choice I could make. If I’m not going to enjoy my job, I will never have the motivation to get anything done.” It feels like steam is rising off the top of my head. “I really love photography and there isn’t anything you can say or do to change my mind. When I get out of here, I am going straight to BU to register for housing.”
“Will you try going to Harvard for a semester. Maybe you will like it! If you do, you can stay there and follow in your uncle’s footsteps.” My mother said encouragingly.
“Why would I want to follow uncle Steve? He is 49 and lives alone in a giant house in the middle of nowhere! When can I get out of here? I just need to be home with my camera and my sketchbook. It doesn’t matter what you say, I am going to BU and you can’t stop me.” I start to get up and pain shoots through me. I lay back down. This is the worst day of my life. “Why can’t I just take pain medication and go home?” I say to mom and dad. “Nothing is broken or sprained, I don’t need a cast or anything. I just need to get out of here.” I wish my parents would trust my decision and let me go to whatever college I choose. I am paying for it after all.
“I will go get the doctor to see when you can go home,” mom says.
I’m safe in the comfort of my bedroom. Finally I can be alone and not have to deal with anything . . . just relax. Relaxing to most people would probably be resting or reading. Maybe even watching a movie, but for me, it’s grabbing my camera, going outside and taking as many pictures as I can. I may not look my best right now because of all the bruises and cuts, but honestly, who cares?
I was walking along the street waiting for something to stick out, but nothing was interesting. I kept walking, with my headphones in my ears and camera in my hands. Then I see it, the perfect picture opportunity. I stopped quickly not realizing the couple walking behind me was so close. They hit me and I fall, wincing in pain. They keep walking and I get up focusing all of my attention on the patch of berries that had made me stop in the first place. It was gorgeous! The prettiest mixture of purple and pink berries is just big enough to make the branches bend a little and just ripe enough to pick and eat. The light shines over the leaves and caresses the berries perfectly. I slowly sink to one knee and put my camera to my face. My finger slides up to the shutter and, click. Just like that, the picture was taken and my smile stretches from one ear to the other. The best feeling is when I know I took a picture that people will love forever.
I stand up and look a little further into the woods and see a path. The trees hug the sides of the path like the were placed there by angels. Looking through the lens, I see details one might not see with the naked eye. It amazes me how the simplest things in life can be so beautiful. This is how I know I want to work as a photographer for the rest of my life.
The trick to getting a sharp photo is balance. The greater your balance, the better your pictures will be. I went to a photography camp when I was 14. I learned quite a lot about balance and hand eye coordination, which is key to great pictures. The origin of the word photography comes from the Greek words photos, meaning light, and graphein, meaning to draw. We also learned a lot about the history of the camera. This bored me at the time, but thinking back on it, changed my life. If I could go back in time, I would want to meet Alhazen, the man who created the first camera. Without him, where would my life be now?
Not only did I get accepted to BU, I also got a letter asking me, and 10 other freshmen, to come to the campus and learn a little about the careers that we would be studying. When the day finally arrived, I spent all morning getting dressed and making sure I looked presentable. It was hard to cover up the bruises, which by now had turned to an ugly yellow color, but I pulled it off. I decided to drive myself there and not include my family on this experience, considering they don’t care much about me going to this school anyway.
I got to the school fifteen minutes early, which was probably a good thing since I took about ten minutes trying to find my way to the lecture hall. I was walking straight down a long hallway and looking down at a brochure that had come with the invitation. Then, I bumped into someone. When I looked up it was a girl who looked my age and had the same dark hair as me. She looked lost as well. Her name is Rebecca, Becca for short and she applied to this school for photography also. I was glad that I wasn’t the only person lost and confused.
Once we got into the lecture hall, they talked about all the great programs they offer, while and a couple of student speakers told us all about their experiences at BU. It made me feel like I was in eighth grade going into ninth grade again. The rest of the time we toured around the school and listened to the Dean of the School talk about location of each class offered, when each building was founded, and so on. It was very boring, and I never heard a thing about photography the whole time. Me and Becca were walking behind the group getting to know each other. We clicked almost instantly, quickly learning every single detail about each other. We became really close friends in a matter of minutes.
We were both starting to lose hope, thinking that this school wasn’t the right choice for two aspiring photographers. Then the Dean brought us into the largest building on campus. The building was filled with pictures. Every room is designated to a different type of photography. The first room featured all black and white photos. The second room displayed abstract. The third room revealed action photos. My jaw dropped and it was at that moment I knew this is where my heart belonged. I am going to Boston University in the Fall.